


Echoes

by Voyager_Z



Category: Carciphona (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27539392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voyager_Z/pseuds/Voyager_Z
Summary: "When I last walked through these grounds, it was an overwhelming barrage of sounds and smells. Torrents of the past, bouncing and crashing across the walls—it felt like I was drowning. And now that I’m finally here... with the courage to face it all again, I hear absolutely nothing... the echoes are long gone.”An eternity later, Veloce returns home. Blackbird watches on as she loses herself amidst the ruins of her past.
Relationships: Keritzel Edeus/Weirin Lin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> Based on ["Conversation"](https://www.deviantart.com/shilin/art/Patreon-sketch-Conversation-555962209), by Shilin.

“…It’s quiet.”

Blackbird perked up at that—it was barely a mutter, but it was the first thing Veloce said all day, it felt like.

The two were alone in the neglected halls of a now-abandoned estate. Blackbird recalled when she crossed its crooked gates and entered its vacant premises, resisting the urge to whistle as she drank in the sights. Gardens and grasses across its courtyard were barren and lifeless, an ornate fountain—surely once the centrepiece of the grounds—now dry and withered. The indoors didn’t fare much better against the throes of time, as its walls were cracked and grey, what wallpaper remained long washed away by the forces of nature. Stone columns were broken and crumbling around them, coating the ground with dirt and rubble. In the main foyer, the ceiling had caved in completely, and fallen chandeliers and ceiling fixtures fragmented into silver strands and glass shards that rather hazardously littered the floor. The manor was in quite the sorry state now, lifeless and cold, but Blackbird could imagine the splendor of what it used to be.

No doubt, Veloce was doing much more than simply imagining. For the past bit, the usually focused sorceress was rather aimlessly wandering the empty chambers, idly drifting stray fingers across ruined surfaces, feeling the cold cracks part beneath her skin. She was drawn even more within herself than Blackbird had ever seen her, if such a thing were possible. Her eyes, often razor-focused, would uncharacteristically fog over as her mind would seemingly depart to some time past, and she’d pause, stare, and move on.

It was as if Veloce was the sole patron to a theatre that Blackbird wasn’t quite invited to. And while Blackbird wouldn’t normally admit this, she was starting to feel a little awkward at her current position, leaning against the doorway, watching her partner lose herself from afar.

 _Quiet_ would be an understatement, Blackbird thought, harkening back to Veloce’s remark. Perhaps it was the melancholy silence and stillness which encapsulated them that made those words ring loud and clear in her ears. Despite their lack of strength, they had a certain weight—Blackbird knew that there was more to them beyond a simple observation of their desolate surroundings.

When Veloce finally stopped and turned back to face her, she had just finished swiping some dust off the edge of a grandiose dinner table. Still twirling the specks between her fingers, she looked back at Blackbird for the first time in a short eternity. It was clear she wanted to say more but didn’t know how.

Blackbird returned her gaze, and they maintained silent eye contact for a while—one curious and questioning, the other contemplative and searching—before Veloce appeared to finally find the words, turned, and started walking again, deeper into the manor. Blackbird silently followed, curious to learn more.

“For the longest time,” she began slowly, thinking her words thrice over, it seemed, before they left her mouth, “I avoided this place. When I last walked through these grounds, it was an overwhelming barrage of sounds and smells. Torrents of the past, bouncing and crashing across the walls—it felt like I was drowning.”

Blackbird only hummed, urging her partner to continue. As they walked, she took the opportunity to get a closer look at the decorations lining the walls and shelves. Despite the dilapidation of the outer walls and the errant smaller furniture, the artworks lining the inner halls and chambers were incredibly well-preserved. Blackbird recognized a mismatched combination of divergent cultural heritages in the collection—a large majority equal parts East Asian and European, with various others sprinkled in. Bronze busts were juxtaposed with delicate chinaware, while oil paintings and calligraphy found themselves at home almost atop one another. It felt like whoever arranged the sets cared little for whether the pieces belonged, rather preoccupied with simply ensuring that they were together.

Did a couple live here? And quite the dynamic one too, Blackbird might add. It would explain the contrasting preferences. Curiosity piqued, she walked just a bit closer to the walls to get a better look…

_"This arrangement is an abomination!" A rather shrill young girl’s voice, amidst giggles._

_“Is it? I think it’s fun! Quite fitting for us, no?”_ _A mild-mannered boy this time._

_“You’re impossible!” Their snickers exploded into raucous laughter._

Blackbird blinked and stopped the vestiges flooding in. She glanced down at her left wrist—indeed, the jewel upon her bracelet was glowing. No wonder the valuables were so well-preserved—they were priceless artifacts, protected by the persisting sentiment of their former owners.

“And now that I’m finally here,” Veloce continued, unaware of what Blackbird just experienced, “with the courage to face it all again, I hear absolutely nothing. I don’t know what I was hoping for, but no matter how hard I close my eyes, focus my mind, stretch my ears, the echoes are long gone.”

Veloce stopped in front of a large portrait on the wall, next to grand doors to what was likely the living room. On its canvas were a young man and woman—the green-haired man was dressed in a dashing suit, gentle face framed by a pair of glasses, while the woman sat on an ornate red chair, wearing a flowing white dress, purple hair tied up in a decorated bun. The masters of the house, perhaps, united in wedlock.

_“Someday, it will just be you and me, and the whole world will be ours.”_

_“You think so?”_

_“I know so. And when that day comes, Veloce will return, and we can finally welcome her home.”_

_“I like the sound of that.”_

The portrait was incredibly rendered and lifelike—the happiness in the sparkle of the couple’s eyes was matched only by the sense of loss rolling off of the lonely sorceress’ back in waves.

“I frankly don’t recall what their voices even sound like anymore.”

It was impossible not to feel somber at that. Blackbird felt rather guilty, actually. The ability to glimpse the past was unique to her. It was absolutely unfair that Blackbird had access to something so personal, and Veloce herself was deaf to it all. Further, Veloce openly emoting was a rare sight, much preferring to keep to herself while at several arms’ lengths from others. There was no obvious sign that Veloce was grieving—no tears or breaking of the voice to betray such a thing—but to Blackbird it was clear she was laying bare her pain, and that was enough for her to feel it as her own.

“How long has it been?” Blackbird finally asked, after brief but heavy silence, if only to signal that she was still there.

Veloce scrunched her brows in concentration. “I don’t know. Years? Decades? Longer, perhaps. Too long, regardless.”

Blackbird nodded, in semi-understanding. How could one keep track of the passage of time when they themselves were outside its flow? For Blackbird, a single lifetime was a sufficient gauge with which to experience the world go by. Veloce had no such luxury—for her, the concept of a lifetime was simply a reminder of what she was eventually forced to leave behind. It was the powerless, futile side of immortality, and Blackbird now had a front-row seat to its solitude.

“And what were they to you?” Blackbird gently inquired.

Veloce turned toward her, a ghost of a smile appearing on her face.

“My family.”

* * *

At last entering the living room proper, the two women came upon what they immediately recognized as the crown jewel of the entire manor. It was an old, gorgeous grand piano of reputable brand, immaculately preserved by magic—in fact, the aura surrounding the abandoned instrument was so strong it was almost glowing.

_“You want to play a duet, Keri?”_

_“Sure! Me on violin, this time?”_

_“Of course!”_

The second Veloce laid her eyes on the instrument, she slowly approached it, entranced. She delicately hooked her fingers under the piano’s shut lid and slowly opened it up, revealing the shining black and white keys. Gently, she ghosted a single hand over the keys, as if she was afraid that with any weight put into it, the entire piano would crumble away like sand, or perhaps glass, and shatter beneath her. The other hand was clutching the hilt of the sword strapped to her side like a lifeline, as if she was anchoring herself to reality lest the past come back to sweep her away.

Then, after a deliberation that lasted a short eternity, and with infinitesimally enough force, she depressed a single key. The hammer struck the string, and a single, lush, rich note rang out, sweeping the room and lighting up the air, resonating across the halls and within the two women’s ears.

Veloce kept holding down the key until the note died out on its own, and they were returned to silence. Perhaps it was Blackbird’s own imagination, but the stillness that plagued the grounds had somewhat dissipated, like a single keystroke was enough to bring the place, if only ever so slightly, back to life.

“It sounds lovely,” Veloce commented. “I expected it to be old, weak, brittle. Or simply not sound at all.”

Blackbird hummed. “There’s some really strong magic in that thing,” she explained, gesturing towards the piano. “All the valuables in here—that piano especially—there’s a lot of lingering emotion keeping it all alive.”

Veloce nodded. “I felt it too, I think.” She brushed her hand across the instrument again. “These keys… they’re warm. It was like they were begging to be played.”

“The couple who lived here—that piano must have been extremely important to them.”

For the first time, Veloce laughed. It was a wistful one. “That’s one way to put it, yeah. Ever since they started sheltering me, I don’t think a single day went by where they weren’t around it.” She smiled at the recollections. “One would play, the other would sing. Or one would be at the piano, the other on a violin. Sometimes even four hands together at the piano. No matter what though, they were quite good, I recall.”

The anxious silence returned. Veloce reached into her satchel, and pulled out a piece of jewelry. It was a lovely little ornate hairpin, clearly handcrafted with extreme dexterity and care. Fixed on its length was a single, white, crystalline flower, emanating a slight ethereal glow.

A _lacrima_. The flower of the heavens. And after all these years, it was finally back where it rightfully belonged.

“I must once again thank you, Blackbird,” Veloce confessed, as she held the floral hairpin in front of her, watching how the rays of the afternoon sun leaking through the windows diffracted through the lacrima’s chiseled petals. “I could never dare to return here, not until this flower was back in its rightful owner’s hands. Truth be told, I nearly resigned to having lost it forever.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Blackbird shot back, with a smirk.

It took a lot of legwork, a bit of string pulling, and more than a few forceful measures, but a job was a job, and when all was said and done, she was able to hunt down Veloce’s treasure for her. Plus, she was compensated handsomely for her efforts in advance. As far as she was concerned, they were even, but it was clear that lacrima was worth far more to Veloce than money could buy, magnitudes beyond what Blackbird could begin to comprehend. In a way, it was also her strength to finally come home, after drifting alone for who knows how long.

Veloce gingerly placed the lacrima on top of the strings of the piano, and by releasing the tiny thing, it looked like the weight of the world finally came off her shoulders. Blackbird knew it instantly—she stood a little straighter, gazed a little softer, and breathed a little easier, because now Veloce’s job was finally done too.

“…Hey, you two,” Veloce softly spoke, reaching her voice out to an audience they couldn’t see. “It’s been a while, but I was finally able to get your hairpin back, Weirin. I know how much it meant to you.” A pause. “Sorry, Keri. You nearly had to make a whole new one because of my incompetence.” Veloce released a clipped, silent laugh. “I guess you could say I got a bit lost out there on my own. I really am hopeless without you guys, huh.”

There was no response. Not that they could hear, at least, but Blackbird was pretty confident that they weren’t so alone in the room anymore.

“But I’m home now. I’m just sorry it took so long.”

Veloce looked up toward the sky as she closed her eyes and sighed, feeling the gust of air blow through the cracks in the windows and walls and across her skin and hair, stirring up the room, ever so slightly displacing dirt and dust.

Neither of the two heard it, but if the fates allowed for such a thing, they may have received a single, loving message with no real shape or form, cloaked in familial warmth, echoed from beyond, and lost to the wind.

_“Welcome home.”_

~ End ~  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Alexa, play Elegy by Shilin Huang.
> 
> This is my first Carciphona fic that I decided was fit for publication (many failed attempts preceded this one). I wrote it in a rather furtive fit of inspiration over the last two days, whenever I needed the break from school or to quell some inner demons, which were recently getting rather obnoxiously loud. At this point, it's hard to say how happy I am with it -- I'm mainly just glad it's finished, and I hope readers enjoy it.
> 
> There's a lot to say about what I wanted this story to be. It changed a lot during conceptualization, drafting, and even while I was writing. Lots of original ideas I really wanted to play with didn't make the cut, while new ones kept introducing themselves on the fly. In fact, halfway through I realized that Shilin's artwork ["Conversation"](https://www.deviantart.com/shilin/art/Patreon-sketch-Conversation-555962209) was so perfect that I had to incorporate it, and so the piano scene in its current rendition burst to life (in early drafts, the piano was in complete disrepair, dead). The setting was then tweaked to accommodate the scene a little better.
> 
> If Shilin or any of her Shildren happen to be reading this -- I dedicate this story to you. No words can describe how good you've been for me over the past two years. This is one of hopefully many stories down the road through which I can hope to give back to the creator and community who have done so much for me.
> 
> See you around. muchBb
> 
> \- Voyager
> 
> P.S:
> 
> 1\. Thank you Lycanheiress for being my beta, as usual.  
> 2\. The tagging for this story has been rather fast and loose. If that has bothered anyone, please feel free to let me know.


End file.
